


drippin' from a dead dog's eye

by itsmaz410



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Camping, Creepy Dolls, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Drabbles, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Movie Night, Song: Piano Man (Billy Joel), Stress Relief, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, its a lot of fun, slight nsfw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-26 18:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 6,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20746415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmaz410/pseuds/itsmaz410
Summary: drabbles! some may be from my tumblr, but the first few are just written randomly!





	1. stoned songwriters

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: mazzy410 
> 
> i hope u all enjoy this !!

Sitting on the cold floor of the studio, they were lazily working over written lyrics and vague song ideas. It was going great in the boys' eyes, sure. But to a stranger, they'd look as if they were half asleep or high. The latter of which they were, partly.

  
"This bit goes, 'one and one and one is three', inn't that genius?" John says, waving a hand around in a halfhearted fashion. Ah, mathematics. Lyrics were easy.  
Paul rolls onto his stomach.  
"Yeah, education. S'good stuff."

  
They had been going at it for a solid hour, gripping pencils, erasers and thin paper.  
Often, sitting positions changed. Some positions had been quite interesting.  
For example, Ringo had once looked over at George and witnessed the guy with his knees by his ears as he leant forward and scribbled frantically.

  
"Aye, Paulie. What'cha doin'?" John mumbles.  
He's too busy squinting at his own mess of lyrics to actually read Paul's paper. Paul just makes a vague noise, mentioning 'screaming' in the midst of his many mumbles. Ringo shifts so that he's putting his weight on his wrists, hands splayed around his paper, staring intently at the words on it.

  
"I'm writin' 'bout submarines," is all the drummer says.

  
The rest of them make a general noise that sounds like validation.

  
Time passes, another hour goes by. Now Paul's pacing. John is rocking side to side as he reads through his notes. Ringo's laying with his ass up in the air, while George is holding his bare foot to his chest as he writes.

  
"Okay, so, how 'bout this: 'He got feet down below his knee.' Good, aye?" John asks. He's smoking, chewing his lip as he racks his tiring brain for ideas. Paul passes by and steals the cigarette, humming a tune that is rather incoherent to everyone else. A tune which became a tad bit annoying after 20 minutes.

  
Without any warning, Ringo suddenly whoops and flings his paper in the air. The weakened crinkled sheet floats around for a moment, before it slides across the floor.  
Ringo jumps up.

  
"MADE A SONG! I DUNNIT, I FINISHED A SO-", Ringo's shout is stopped short as George trips him by the ankle. He tumbles to the ground with a disgruntled groan.  
Paul leans over and snatches up the paper.  
His eyes move left and right as he reads. His expression is full of confusion.  
"But it's so.. y'know, er, kiddie?" Paul asks hesitantly.

Ringo, who looked so damned hopeful for some positive feedback, now seems crushed.  
Then he tries to explain, hands gesturing wildly.  
"S'like, s'meant fer kids! Uh, see, like, if a parent wanted ta show their kids our songs, they can show 'em this! Or, maybe jus', uh, we can maybe jus' throw a happy little tune onto the album..?"  
Everyone gazes at him blankly.  
Ringo flops back onto the floor.  
"You'll like it eventually. Ye idiots, singin' 'bout math an' custard!" Then he adds (more to himself) in quiet disbelief, "God, custard? I mean, thas' what ye call madness."  
John just rolls his eyes.

  
But a week later, 'Yellow Submarine' is officially added to the album.


	2. it's what tinkerbell would'a wanted!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> movie night!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: mazzy410

It's Monday night, and they've taken a break from the exhaustion of making an album. Curled up on the various couches at George's odd little house, they were arguing over what movie to watch. "Mary Poppins?" Paul suggests, drowned out by a loud yell of, "Nahh, do that zombie film, Night Of The Living Dead!"

  
There was a strong debate over horror films and Disney films, with John defending the horror genre, and Paul standing proud with his support of Disney. The debate was ridiculous, especially when John got up on the rickety coffee table and began to chant, "Zombies, zombies, zombies-", and Paul bravely threatened to push him off, because 'It's what Tinkerbell would'a wanted!'

  
In the end, Mary Poppins is indeed chosen, and George seems reluctant as he puts in the cassette tape. Clearly, he wanted to watch horror. As Ringo leans over to switch off the lights, Paul lets out a strangled cough. Nobody takes the time to care, and the room is flooded with darkness, the only light source flickers from the small television.  
John doesn't admit it, nor does George, but they rather enjoy the suffragette song. It was undeniably catchy, watching as Mrs Banks marches around, singing exuberantly, proud and defiant.

  
Paul is curled up on a ditzy little armchair.

With a cigarette lit, he tries to focus on the film, he really does. But the dark creeps up on him, cold, gross & eerie. God, he hates the dark.  
He refuses to show the boys that he's scared in any way, so he takes a deep drag of his cigarette and tries his best to ignore the darkened, silent corners of the room.  
Tearing his eyes away from the bright screen, George glances at the others. John's now totally engrossed in the film, and Ringo's watching with amazement as Mary Poppins speeds past the racers on her floating carousel horse. But Paul's puffing away on his cigarette, eyebrows furrowed harshly, eyes flicking tensely around the room.

George quickly realises that he's scared. Paul's scared.  
So, without any hesitation, he yanks John close by his neck. John tries to push George away, saying that he's watching the film, but George is demanding; he doesn't budge.

  
"Paul's scared of th'dark, ya dingus," he hisses lowly in the guitarist's ear.

  
John's expression changes from confusion to realisation. His head whips over to look at Paul, who is lighting his third cigarette, and his devilish grin is one of an evil man's.  
In seconds, John's hurtling at Paul. Ringo is completely clueless as to what's going on. Paul shrieks, high pitched like a girl, as John yells aggressively, "Ya scared of Mary Poppins?! Ahh, fuckin' scaredy cat!"  
Paul just kicks his legs out feebly, though he knows that John's joking. George bounds over to tickle the bassist, earning a whole round of girly screams from Paul.  
"S'the dark, you bitch! G'offa me, twat! OI!" Paul roars, and Ringo is gobsmacked as he watches the chaos unfold. He's torn between watching the boys, watching the film or just turning the lights on. Paul lets out a deafening scream of laughter and fear.

Ringo darts for the lights.

  
He earns a light punch on the shoulder from John. "Gah, Ringo ruined all th'fun!"  
At that, Paul scoffs. "He stopped th'torture, ya mean-"  
For that, he was attacked with painful tickles once more, and the screams were shrill.


	3. tiring touring (what a mouthful)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> john needs some comfort after an exhausting concert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: mazzy410

After a rather tiring gig, the four boys had gotten back to the motel they had currently been residing in. John flopped instantly upon his and Paul's bed, clearly worn out by the 40 minutes of rowdy vocals and strumming guitars. Ringo strips off his blazer, hanging his tie up and settling into a chair.

  
Paul lit a cigarette and joined John on the bed.

  
"Y'seem a bit more knackered than usual, mate," Paul comments.  
George drags Ringo to their shared bed, both laying down and facing the other two.  
John shrugs.  
"The girls were louder this time, coul' barely hear meself singin'. Terrible stuff."  
All of them understood how it sucked to be drowned out by screaming teens. They tried hard to make their music heard, tried out new styles on albums, just to be known for nothing but their looks. It often felt pointless to play live.  
But Paul refuses to let the night become weary and gloomy, so he decides to do the one thing that calms John down.  
It was a simple show of affection, but soothing all the same.  
He snuggles up closer to the guitarist and runs gentle fingers through his brown hair, the roots slightly damp from sweat. John seems to instantly relax, eyes shutting, a little tender smile appearing on his face.

  
George and Ringo sat up, legs entangled. George was holding Ringo's hands, turning them this way and that to admire the vast array of rings on his calloused fingers.  
"I jus' get all negative afta' a show, y'see?" John says. Paul just nods, stroking through the man's hair, humming a slow tune to fill the silence. The reality of it all was harsh to think about, and it was, quite frankly, truly worrying.

But they needed to stay positive.

  
"Let it go, mate. We c'n jus' do sumthink abou' it another day, aye?" George suggests, shrugging as he rubs a thumb over the smooth texture of the rings that Ringo wears.  
John accepts that, pushing away the stressful thoughts.  
Paul smiles at him, and there's a moment of quiet. Each of them were tired, yes, but they had eachother to count on to easily get through it.  
"Yer all great, ya know that?" Ringo suddenly mumbles, looking up from his and George's fingers. John rolls over, tilting his head as he absentmindedly trails his nails down Paul's arm.  
"Wha' makes ye say tha', Rings?" Paul asks.  
The drummer shrugs, resting his head on George's shoulder.  
"We ain't that happy with what we got righ' now, but look. We're makin' eachother happy by doin' the simplest stuff. Aye, fans can be overwhelmin', sure, but we're doin' alright at th'moment."

  
Silence falls, then George makes a tiny snorting noise.

Ringo frowns.

  
"Yer all great an' true with yer lil' speech, Rings. But God, yer a massive sap," George snickers, a toothy grin on his face. That makes everyone smile in a sort of fond way. Ringo was a fucking sappy guy, and wasn't hesitant to be emotional. It was nice.  
And the night continued, hands fiddling with rings and silky strands of hair. No guitars or drums were touched until the next morning.


	4. mr. knight, here's my torch, im scared-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> george tells a spooky tale while camping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: mazzy410

The woods are fucking cold at night. And none of them had been prepared for that eventuality at all, when they had all eagerly decided to go camping a few hours before nightfall.   
Paul is miserable.   
"I jus' wanna be in me godfersaken bed," he whines.   
The wind whistles lowly through the night as the four boys attempt to set up a campfire. When John tries to light the wooden logs with his lighter, Paul practically knocks him over. A fool he is, that John Lennon.  
"Y'can't fuckin' do that, holy shit!" John just looks confused as the bassist correctly lights the fire, the flames licking over the wood. Ringo wriggles a bit as he sits, a content smile on his face from the sudden heat. George takes his own seat beside the flames, also glad for the warmth.  
A few minutes pass in relative silence, for the boys are too busy warming up to do something boring, like making small talk.   
But then George gets this shit eating grin on his face.  
"How abou' a scary story ta pass th'time?"  
Paul chuckles. It wouldn't be that scary if George told it. "Aight, sure. Go ahead."  
Ringo leans a bit into Paul, curious to know what the story would be. John rests his chin in his palm, watching the guitarist.  
"Fer decades, people who camped in this area had stuff stolen. Y'know. Batteries an' food from cabins, flashlights from campin' tents. Rumors went 'round that a guy went out an' stole ta stay alive. Lil' bit weird, but not scary, aye?" George starts. Ringo and Paul nod, interested. John just blinks as if he were about to fall asleep.  
"It got worse."  
Ringo gulps.   
"Tha rumours were right. Mostly. The guy, now called Mr. Knight, had started ta murder people if they dinn't have anythin' worthy enough fer tha guy ta steal. He kept tabs on th'campers that dinn't have enough, an' ripped em ta shreds. So he could be around, watchin' us right about now. We migh' jus' die tonight, boys!"  
Ringo suddenly makes a sniffing noise.   
George stops his dark maniacal giggles to look over at the drummer.   
He's in tears.  
"Oh, Rings," he mumbles, and John's also moving to scramble to Ringo, though George yanks him so he that doesn't go through the fucking campfire and burn to his death. A dumb fucking fool.   
"Creeped me out a bit much," Ringo lets out a giggle, sniffing as three pairs of arms wrap around him. John hisses at the guilty looking guitarist, "Ye made him cry!"  
"I didn't fink he'd cry!"  
Ringo suddenly looks up at George and asks very softly, "Will we all die tonight?"   
His heart may have just broken a bit.  
"If the guy actually existed, we'd get tha bugger first. Bedtime now, aye?"  
Ringo fell asleep that night within the arms of his friends, safe and sound.


	5. sing us a song, yer tha bass playerrrrr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> paul plays piano.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: mazzy410

Paul was playing the piano. 

Which was a here and there sort of thing.   
Often, he'd not play, for he was too tired or busy caught up in plans. But when he did play, it had a sort of strange effect on the rest of the boys.  
They'd listen in, even if in separate areas of the house, their heartstrings tugged as his fingers rolled over white and black keys with passion. George would often try and memorise the song, but ended up enjoying the piece anyway. John would sometimes, perhaps, shed a tear or two from the emotions pulled from the keys. Ringo liked to tap his fingers along, creating a soft drum beat just for himself to enjoy as well.  
Tonight, the sweetened notes of 'Piano Man' was beginning to play. And, as expected, multiple ears listen in eagerly because everyone knows how damned powerful the song usually was. George stopped his reading of the paper, head tilted toward the room where Paul sat. Ringo swayed a bit, smiling to himself. He adored this song.

Then Paul begins to sing.  
His voice echoes through the house, shaking with the emotions he pours out. When his singing reaches a booming crescendo, he'd lean back, eyes shut and throat bared to the ceiling.  
John can barely think to stop himself as he stumbles into the room, and stands stock still as his eyes fall upon the pianist. It's beautiful. Paul is so wrapped up in his music that he doesn't notice John. If he does, he doesn't seem to care.  
Paul's fingers flutter purposefully over the keys, the deep notes seeming overwhelming. He plays away, head tilted back as he presses at the keys hard enough to make him sway jerkily.

John just watches, eyes darting over his face and fingers, how he seems so full from the emotions that he's going through.

It really is beautiful.  
Now Ringo and George had settled beside John, eyes locked on Paul. Normally they wouldn't be watching the performance, but this song had so many emotions in it that they all couldn't help themselves. Paul played it perfectly.  
The longing, the loneliness, the sadness, the understanding. All of it shone through his powerful voice as he sang.  
Most likely, Paul had learned the piano piece that accompanied the song by ear, for it was hard to read sheet music, and even harder to get a copy of Billy Joel's notes.  
The music was overwhelming, sad, longing, but most of all, it was beautiful.

And when Paul begins to sing again, his voice shakes.


	6. nails in the mail? oh, help us all-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there's some really fucking gross fanmail the boys receive sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: mazzy410

Opening fanmail is possibly the most boring and exciting thing they ever have to do.  
It also ends up turning quite creepy, too.

"John? Remember when ye got that girl's fingernail in tha mail?" George asks as he reclines on the couch with a cigarette. On the coffee table sits a towering pile of different sized letters and packages, each nearly bursting with paper or objects. Looking rather plain beside the pile was a meagre platter of sandwiches.  
John nods, his face showing slight disgust as he leans against Paul. Paul sits beside the fireplace, studying a long letter.  
"Wasn't it like, ripped righ' from her actual finger?" Ringo pipes up as he moves over to select a letter from the pile, settling on the floor. When John nods again, George makes a pained grunt. They all were uneasy when they had discovered the object, especially Paul, who had screeched as if he were a 12 year old who was forced to hold hands with a boy in school.  
George shifts to read over Ringo's shoulder. However, he quickly gets bored from the slew of romantic declarations directed to the drummer, and picks up his own large parcel from the table.  
"What've ye got there, Geo?" John asks, reaching over to grab a dry looking sandwich from the coffee table. Paul nearly falls, as he was previously leaning back against John. Ringo looks up from his letter, cheeks pink.  
"Jus' a parcel, mate, don' be daft," George mumbles as he tears the paper off.  
It's a plain looking white box.  
His curiosity spiking, he curls his fingers round the lid. It doesn't budge. George huffs, gesturing a hand out to Ringo, who briskly passes him the scissors.  
"What d'ye think it'll be?" Paul asks.  
"Aye dunno, honestly."

He lifts the lid. Instantly, the box is seemingly alive with millions of little black spiders, crawling rapidly out over the sides and onto the couch, sprawling to the floor.

George drops his cigarette.

Then he screams.

The room erupts into pure, uncontrollable chaos.

Ringo is violently sobbing and hopping around as if the ground is burning his feet, while Paul nearly jumps into the fucking fireplace. John is kind of logical and begins to assemble a flamethrower. George passes out near the doorway.  
John makes a loud strangled sound and suddenly there's a burst of fire, which only ends up killing about 10 of the many spiders. Then Paul is grabbing Ringo and John, and leaps toward the door, only to see the fully unconscious George on the floor.  
"What tha fucking fuck- I QUIT THE BAND-", and Paul, in his panic, grabs the guitarist and drags him out the door.  
They are now all laying on the hallway floor outside, Paul and Ringo in tears, while John is trying to slap George in the face hard enough so 'he can play the next concert!'

A spider crawls under the door. 

The boys all collectively faint.


	7. don't bite my friend, you creepy bitch!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys deal with a haunted doll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: mazzy410

The overwhelming sound of screaming is more than intense as the four boys try to play the end of their last song to the crowd that holds millions of sobbing teenage girls. When John steps forward to practically yell into the weak microphone that they're finished and 'will come back another time!', the crowd gets louder and doesn't seem to care for his words. 

Only when they're waving and walking off the stage, a rather heavy object comes hurtling through the air and whacks Paul in the shoulder, nearly knocking the man over. The object turns out to be a doll, a wooden carved doll with red lips and blonde curls. 

They hurriedly leave the stage and don't notice that someone picks the doll up.

"Paul, mate, yer okay? That thing was wooden, ya know," George says once they're backstage, but the little moment is interrupted by a panting Ringo.  
"This thing?" He's holding the doll by its arm.  
Paul tilts his head, nodding uneasily. "A bit creepy, innit?"  
John just laughs as he moves forward and grabs the doll from Ringo. "Rather cute, I must say-," he starts with a little grin on his face, but then, without any warning, Paul practically throws it from his hands.

"What was tha' for?!"  
"Paul!"  
"Careful with it, ya bloody-!"  
"No! Shuddup an' listen," Paul hisses, then takes a deep breath, "I think it's haunted."

There's silence. 

Then Ringo's trying to stifle his laughter by biting his knuckles, and John's lips are tugging up into a smile. George is already howling with laughter. Paul's cheeks puff up a little and his eyebrows furrow heavily, something that he only does when he gets annoyed. "Ye better listen ta me, ye fools, that doll hit me shoulder an' now I'll have nightmares til I die! I'm cursed!"  
George snickers as he pats Paul's shoulder, "Now don' be dumb, yer excited from the concert. Jus' relax, mate." He had spoken too soon. 

The doll, which had fell in an odd position, suddenly begins to move.  
"Hello?" The wavering voice that exits the doll's mouth is soft and girly. Paul cheers, shoving George in the shoulder and yelling, "I was right! Haha, ye little twats!" Then suddenly, it all seems to dawn on Paul.  
"Oh, shit."

Nobody moves.

Then, stupid fucking John crouches in front of the doll, and as he reaches out to grab her, sharp teeth suddenly sink into his skin. He leaps away with a shriek, but Ringo has no fear at all as his foot strikes into the wooden doll and sends it flying.  
John is cradling his bleeding hand. George is possibly in shock as he stares, swaying slightly on the spot. Paul is grabbing tissues for John. 

Ringo jumps on the doll, digging his heels in and kicking the absolute shit out of it. "Don't bite my fucking friend, you creepy bitch!" The doll makes odd little whirring noises.  
"Ringo, stop-!"  
Brian Epstein, their manager, walks in. He sees Ringo kicking a doll, John bleeding, Paul and George looking on in horror.

"Okay, boys, what the fuck?"


	8. touch me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> john's pretty touch starved. 
> 
> "Touch starved John wanting to hug his paulie but dares not to ask till Paul guess it?? Would be cute. Thank you if you write ❤" - anonymous request!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i loved this so much-
> 
> tumblr: mazzy410

Paul's sitting at the table, a deep frown upon his pretty face as he works over his previously written lyrics. They're not coming out right upon the paper, though he's got it all in his head. He's even got the melody, the chord structures, but they're all falling flat when the words hit the pages. 

John's sitting in his room, arms wrapped around himself tightly as his mind races. He's so desperate to touch someone, to feel their arms around him, to rest his head on their shoulder. He wants physical contact, like he needs water after a concert. He doesn't just want it, though. He needs it. He really needs it. 

He needs Paul.

Paul's throwing more paper in the bin with a snarl, frustrated as all hell, when John approaches him with a stiff, anxious expression on his face. 

"Paul? What's.. what's the matter?" At the sound of John's strained tone, Paul looks up. Holy shit, John's tense. He notices the fidgeting slim fingers, the taut pull of his shoulders, the reddened bitten lips. He realises that John's needing something. 

"Lyrics. But, look at you. You're not- You're really tense. Come here, love, sit. So, what's the matter?"

John's practically falling over himself as he darts closer, hands hesitant and shaking as they hover over Paul's shoulders. His eyes look a little frightened, antsy, like a scared animal. 

"John." Paul says, after a moment too long of John simply standing there.  
"Mm?" He seems to start, blinking. 

Paul doesn't say a word as he takes John's shaking hands gently in his own, then moves to wrap his arms around John's back. He feels John instantly relax, and his nose digs into Paul's shoulder, sharply inhaling. Paul, smiling to himself, strokes down John's back. They stand there, for a long moment, wrapped up in eachother's touch, before John quietly asks what lyrics Paul was working on. 

"You want to help?"

And so Paul sits back down, now with John sitting sideways over his lap, as they figure out the song together, never not touching.


	9. cinderella saves the day!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Smth stressful happens to Ringo and Paul, and they regress with John and George's help? Idk like smth sweet where they all cuddle and feel better ?" - anonymous request on tumblr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: mazzy410

The boys have received multiple harsh reviews on their album, and they're getting miserable. Especially Ringo and Paul, who aren't used to handling rude critics easily. So they turn to George and John for some help to cheer up.

"Geo? Johnny? Can me an' Ritchie, uhm, like, y'know..," Paul trails off, nervous about asking, but once they understand, George's eyes light up and he beams. John grins, and simply pulls Paul into his arms, settling him on his hip. "You ready, me little lovebug?" John murmurs to Paul, and in seconds, the little guy's burying his face in John's chest and giggling shyly.   
George calls out, "Ohhh, Ritchieeee?" and Ringo zooms out of his bedroom, holding his teddy bear in one arm. He's giggling loudly and clings to George with the biggest smile upon his face. 

John leans over to George, one thumb already in Paul's mouth. "Are we gunna make em both snacks an' watch a film together, y'think?" George nods with a warm smile, but Ringo hears 'snacks' and 'film' and gasps eagerly, bouncing on his toes. "We watchin' Cindy? Poppycornies too?" 

George can't stop his chuckle as John nods in response, stroking Paul's hair. Then he helps Ringo climb onto his back, holding his legs tightly as he begins to jog around the house. John watches them go with a grin, though he knows that Paul is more reserved and hums while letting him suck on John's thumb. He hasn't got a problem with the ways they each regress, really. He loves Ringo's energy, but definitely handles a quieter Paul with ease. 

George soon lets Ringo smack the buttons on the microwave to cook the popcorn, but since he's regressed and much more clumsy, he sets it for 48 minutes. George can't stop his laugh, but he does praise Ringo with a huge smile.  
Paul soon wanders over to them all with the bag of popcorn, since John had stopped it at the appropriate time, and he looks a little wobbly on his feet, but then he crawls up onto the couch, giggling softly. "H-here, poppycornies!" 

And snuggled up together on the couch with about 10 different stuffies, they all watch Cinderella. 

(John and George see that the littles have fallen asleep by 15 minutes, and definitely tuck them in with a soft little lullaby.)


	10. tough, young lad.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Paul kissing John's face and praising him till John is a blushing squirming mess all shy and stuff. Which is really hard since John always try to keep the bad boy image" - anonymous request.
> 
> tumblr: mazzy410

John's leaning against the bricks of his house, smoking a cigarette and allowing the smoke to roll out his lips, when Paul finally walks up, a big grin on his blushing face. John gives a wry, smirking smile, rolling his eyes and taking another drag.

"Oh, good mornin'', Johnny boy! I missed youuuuu..", Paul coos, giggling. He's happily wearing a Fair Isle patterned sweater, his dark hair all fluffy and curly. Grinning, he leans in to kiss John's cheek, taking his hand. 

John, not wanting to be seen by anyone in the street like this, yanks his hand away with a scoff, putting on his act even more, especially since he's outside. He curls the smoke from his lips, slouching against the wall, not even glancing at Paul. Though Paul knows his boy's putting on a big old act, he really does. He's seen John giggling and gasping for air after a long kiss, he's seen John blushing because he was called 'sweetheart', he's seen John moaning sweet, desperate words late in the night.

So Paul takes John's cigarette, throws it down and stamps it out, grabbing his hand. Ignoring the angry mutters he hears, he drags his boy inside, giggling.

John keeps the act up even when the door closes, and then he's being tugged to the couch, Paul's eyes sparkling. He pulls John down, burying his face in his shoulder, while John strokes his arm a little bit. 

"John, you're such a good boy, you know?" Paul says gently, stroking John's cheek gently then pressing a kiss to the skin.   
John's jaw tightens, rolling his eyes. "M'not a good boy, yer bein' daft." He's speaking in his rough tone, sounding much more masculine than usual. But Paul decides to press onward, shifting so that he's settling on John's lap. He presses a long, sweet kiss to his neck, feeling John shudder under his touch.

"Y'wanna drop the tough stuff now, pretty baby?"

John sighs and suddenly pulls Paul extremely close, nearly flush against eachother. He presses a little kiss to Paul's lips, then it continues, until they're both gasping for breath.  
"Yer my angel, Paul," John says breathlessly, with a giggle falling from his lips.

And they cuddle the day away, kissing, giggling and smiling the entire time.


	11. giraffe legs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Little George hurting himself since he cant really walk well in little space, and everyone fussing around him ? Idk I just really dig that idea of George not walking well so an accident is bound to happen!-Blow Away" 
> 
> tumblr: mazzy410

George had acquired a picture book of a baby giraffe, attempting to walk for the first time. Gazing at the pictures, (since he didn't understand all of the words) he flips through the book, Mister Brooks on his thigh.   
He grins excitedly and closes the book, turning to Mister Brooks. 

"I wanna do walkieth!"

So he tries. And he tries, and he tries again. 

Finally, he's gotten up to the kitchen. He's absolutely giddy with excitement, gently clutching Mister Brooks in his hands and squeaking. He doesn't realise his foot is sliding across the ground, due to the slippery mat he had set his foot on. His other foot was on the actual floor. 

But down poor Georgie goes, smacking his hand on the cupboard handles sharply. He's too in shock to register what had happened at first, so he lays there, eyes wide and chest heaving. His legs are sprawled over the ground, hands tucked inwards to his chest, and he looks a little like a T-Rex on it's back.   
He pops his head up. Where was his elephant? Then George spots him, seeing that Mister Brooks had been suddenly flung over to the wall. 

Then he feels the tiniest ache in his hand, and begins to wail. He's wailing because he doesn't understand why there's pain, why Mister Brooks isn't with him, why Ringo, John and Paul aren't here, why he's on the ground. 

He's just upset.

Ringo bursts out of his bedroom, seeing his poor angel stuck on the floor with tears rolling down his pink cheeks. He gasps, grabs Mister Brooks and rushes over. "George? Baby boy, I need you to hold Mister Brooks for me, okay?" 

"M-Mithter Brookth..," George repeats in a whisper, sniffling loudly then giving the elephant stuffie a crushing hug, sobbing even more. It was something to distract George as he checked his body up for cuts or bruises or scrapes. Paul and John come hurrying out, shocked by the scene they're met with.   
"Oh, Georgie Giraffe, what've you done?" Paul asks, instantly taking the role of being an emotional carer while Ringo checked on George physically. John searches for a lollipop or something for George to suck on.

"I f-fell ovah, an' everythin hurth.. I'm thcared.." George sobs, hiding his face in Mister Brooks' silky fur.   
John decides to make George up a good ol' warm bottle of milk. He would calm down a bit easier, and most definitely get sleepy. Ringo soon announces that George is fine, just the shock from falling was what set him off so quickly. Paul helps George up, the taller man having to nervously lean on him, while Ringo settles a blanket in his arms. John's heating up the milk, humming.

"Baby booooy? Y'wanna hop into Dada's arms?" Ringo coos, and in seconds, George is awkwardly trying to do it, grabbing Ringo's shoulders with sleepy eyes. Paul has to help George settle comfortably in Ringo's arms, wrapping the large blanket around George gently.

Then John passes the bottle of milk to Ringo, and Ringo's walking off, giving him and George privacy so he can get his baby to have a nap. George drinks down the milk too quickly, so Ringo has to pull the bottle back with a giggle. 

"Ah, ah, baby boy. Slowly, mhm?"   
George yawns in response.

And soon after he finishes the bottle, he falls alseep, wrapped in a blanket in his Dada's arms, Mister Brooks tucked in his lanky arms, and he's dozing off his way into dreamland.


	12. thighs and lips (slightly nsfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "you're okay with writing teasing? do you mind writing a lil thing of like paul riling john up all day and then john snaps and he's like,, jwjsjs" - anonymous request.
> 
> tumblr: mazzy410

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (i actually enjoyed this one oooo)

Paul's at dinner with John, Ringo, George, Mal and Eppy, and he's been in the biggest teasing mood for the entire day. He's casually sauntered by John, raking his nails down his boy's arm, feeling very satisfied when John shudders. He's offhandedly rested his chin on John's shoulder, smirking to himself as John bites back a snarl because little Paulie's hand had traveled down to knead at his ass with a quick hand. 

Now, they're at dinner.   
And Paul's not going to stop his tricks just because they're in public. Oh, no. 

He's sat in an elegantly carved mahogany chair, right next to John. John's discussing record sales with Eppy, his eyes bright. He's seemingly forgotten the whole teasing thing. Maybe he thinks that because they're out at dinner, Paul would knock it off for the time. Instead, Paul joins into the conversation, resting his chin on his palm, nodding a bit at the topic and the ideas that were being proposed.

But his other hand lays firmly on John's thigh. He hears John cough suddenly. And when John's thigh rears up under the table, Palm easily shoves it back down, a smile on his face. He strokes John's thigh, unable to hide his hungry grin when it shakes a little. He lets his hand drift up higher, and he flicks his eyes away, seemingly gazing at the architectural structures in the restaurant.

Poor John lets out a wheezing gasp, and then he's rising sharply from his seat, eyes wilder than before as he mutters out an apology, saying that he and Paul need to go back to their hotel room.

Ringo and George share a glance, while Epstein and Mal simply look concerned. 

When they climb the stairs and reach their hotel room floor, John is dead silent the entire time. Paul isn't scared, he's mostly aroused. John practically throws himself and Paul into the room, slamming the door so hard that the doorknob rattles. Then Paul's shoved harshly against the wall, and he's staring a seething John in the face with a smirk. 

"James, you were not obedient today, were you?" John's voice is eerily calm, even though his eyes are fiery. Paul sucks in a sharp breath.

"No, sir."

Let's just say that they have a grand time for the rest of the night


	13. ringo's knackered, lads.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "george looking after little ringo after a show? where ringo is super tired? thank you!" - anonymous request.
> 
> tumblr: mazzy410

They had just left the stage, each of them a sweating mess. God, the crowd never stopped screaming, it made their ears ache for hours. Though, they did get exercise when running from wild fans.   
George slumps in a chair in the little metal stools that were in their dressing room, lighting a cigarette and trying to chill out. Playing live for fans was exhausting, exhilarating and beautiful all at once, he decided. Sometimes it could get scary, especially when fans found their way on stage.

He's yanked out of his thoughts by a soft pat on his leg. He blinks and looks up. It's Ringo, his eyes looking nothing but weary and desolate. Oh, gosh, he's never looked this exhausted.

"Ritchie? Hey, whas' th'matter? Show got too hard, don't ya think?" George doesn't realise that Ringo's regressed until he sees the guy lift his thumb to his mouth ever so slightly. What was more alarming was that Ringo didn't seem bright and loud as he usually was when regressed. Jesus, he must be drained.

"Oh, buddy. C'mere, you want cuddles? We can go find a lollipop or somethin' fer ya ta suck on, yeah?" Ringo smiles wearily and nods a little bit. When George picks him up in his arms, he sees Ringo's eyes flutter closed. 

A nap was definitely needed, then. 

Nevertheless, he goes to a part of the management crew and quietly asks if they could bring some snacks, preferably water, lollies and even some healthier snacks, into the dressing room. "Not trying to bother you guys," George had added, thanking them softly before heading back to the dressing room.

Paul tilts his head, not having seen that Ringo was regressed earlier. "S'everything okay? Did he pass out? Should we-", Paul is cut off by George chuckling and shaking his head.

"The little kiddo's fine, just needing a nap and some lollies, Paul."

When Brian hastily says that they need to go out to the car and get ready to fly out to America, Paul quickly shakes his head. John scrambles up and quietly explains that they need at least a day to relax.   
Soon, the food is brought in, and many cups of water were passed around. Ringo wakes up, not realising he had drooled on George's shoulder as he makes grabby hands at a piece of watermelon.

In a few minutes, Ringo's feeling much better. And so is everyone else, as they snack on jelly, sandwiches, salads and pizza. 

They all sleep much better that night.


End file.
